


Just A Call Away

by A_Study_In_Johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Study_In_Johnlock/pseuds/A_Study_In_Johnlock
Summary: John is away at a medical convention and Sherlock begins to feel terribly lonely





	Just A Call Away

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy!

Sherlock tried to play his violin. He’d been trying for the past three hours, to no avail. He would hold his bowstring in place, and then he would find himself lost within his thoughts.  _ What was John doing now? Was he having fun without him? _

He couldn’t get his brain to go silent for more than thirty seconds and it was so  _ frustrating  _ to the point of Sherlock being more than prepared to rip his own hair out. He placed his violin back into its case with much care with a silent apology to the inanimate object. He looked around the empty flat, the stacked up books and magazines, the dust motes flying, the messy kitchen, John’s empty chair…

Sherlock sighed and walked into the kitchen. He looked around the space, knowing that John would complain about the mess.

_ Sherlock, what did I tell you? You can’t just leave acid lying around! _

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest. He’d tried to drift away into his mind palace, to speak to John there, but even  _ he  _ knew it wasn’t the same as having the real thing. The  _ real  _ John Watson.

So, Sherlock began to clean the kitchen. He wasn’t entirely sure  _ why  _ he was doing it, it just sort of happened. Soon, the entire kitchen was clean, then he began on the living room.

Sherlock was in the middle of alphabetising the stack of books when his phone ring. The consulting detective had never moved faster within his life, nearly dropping his phone on the carpet. Sherlock looked at the screen:

_ John.  _

“John.” Sherlock answered, almost breathless.

_ "Oh,  _ it’s so nice to hear your voice, how is everything there?”

“Oh...good. Good,” Sherlock looked around and nodded. “Good. How is your doctor convention?”

John chuckled and it sounded like music to Sherlock’s ears. “It’s boring, although New York is massive. I think I finally have a taste of what you feel without a case.”

“I severely doubt it,” Sherlock murmured, frowning.

“Have you set the flat on fire yet?” John inquired.

“No,” Sherlock said. “I cleaned it.”

John went completely silent. For a moment, Sherlock thought he’d hung up, so he pulled the phone away to check and, no, John was still there.

“Hello? John?”

“Y...y- _ you _ cleaned the...flat?”

Sherlock scoffed. “Yes, I cleaned the flat, John, for God’s sake.”

“Don’t blame me for being surprised–when’s the last time you cleaned the flat?” Sherlock could hear the amusement in John’s voice, he didn’t even need to see the man’s face. Sherlock thought about it for a few minutes–nothing. Then, he really considered it, and came up short.

“Today,” Sherlock said with finality.

John laughed which made Sherlock smile. “Exactly. You never have.”

“Better late than never.” Sherlock muttered, still smiling at the thought of having made John laugh.

Then, John sighed heavily. “God, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Sherlock breathed, sinking down into John’s chair, placing his phone on the arm of the chair whilst pressing the  _ speaker _ button.

“Are you still cleaning?” John inquired softly. “That still feels weird to say.”

“No,” Sherlock murmured, playing with a loose thread.  “I’m sitting in your chair.”

“Comfy?” 

“Very,”

“Hmm,” John sighed. “I’m sitting on a lumpy hotel mattress and it’s nothing like ours. I wish you were here, or that I was there, lying next to you.”

Sherlock perked up at a thought, his mind filling with possibilities. “Well, then do it.”

“What?” John asked, confused.

“Show me what you’d do if there wasn’t an entire body of water between us,”

John let out a shaky breath and when he spoke, his voice was low, husky. “Lock the doors.”

No games. Right here, right now.

Sherlock immediately ran to lock the doors and sat back down in John’s chair, waiting. His pulse was thrumming in anticipation: why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? 

“Are you still in my chair?” John inquired.

“Yes,” Sherlock breathed, already overwhelmed and they hadn’t done anything yet.

“Good. Stay there. What are you wearing?”

“Really John?” Sherlock snorted. “The cliche phone sex question?” 

John laughed. “Shut up. It helps with visualisation. For example, I’d just gotten out the shower when I called you, so I’m not wearing anything.”

Sherlock’s mouth went dry and his pulse sped up as all the blood rushed south as he began visualising John bare, images of his long, thick cock flashing in Sherlock’s mind. “Okay, fair point well made,” he whispered breathlessly as he looked down at himself. “Dark blue button up, black trousers, no shoes.”

“That blue shirt and the purple one you own is going to absolutely be the very death of me.” Sherlock smirked in response. “Don’t smirk,” John added in. “I can practically  _ hear  _ you smirking. Start unbuttoning that shirt so we can get you naked.”

If Sherlock wasn’t hard before, he was hard now, almost painfully. Slowly, he undid the buttons of his shirt. 

“Take it off,” John murmured as if he were sitting right there, watching him. Sherlock quickly pulled it off. “Trousers next,” Sherlock nodded although John couldn’t see and slipped his trousers down past his waist, his thighs, and down his legs until they pooled at his feet. “Are you hard?” John asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock breathed.

“Stroke yourself through the material until I tell you to stop.”

With a considerably shaky hand, Sherlock cupped his covered cock into his hand and the sensation shot up his spine, through his bollocks, and down his thighs. “ _ Oh _ ,” Sherlock moaned, teasing himself.

“Good boy,” John praised, causing precum to leak from the tip of Sherlock’s cock, eliciting a sharp gasp. “You’re always so good for me, Sherlock. Do you know what I would do if I were there?”

“What?” Sherlock’s voice sounded wrecked.

“I’d taste your skin, suck a couple bruises into that beautiful, pale neck of yours,” Unconsciously, Sherlock’s free hand drifted down the length of his neck, imagining John’s lips. “Then, I’d kiss those sweet, clever pouty lips, and then down your body.” Sherlock dusted his hands from his lips, down his neck, past his collarbone, between his pectoral muscles, and down to his bellybutton.  

“ _ John _ ,” Sherlock moaned.

“Stop.” John commanded softly and calmly. The hand on Sherlock’s cock immediately halted. “Good, Sherlock. I’m so proud of you. Do me a favour, will you? Take off your pants.”

Sherlock lifted his hips and peeled his briefs down until they joined his trousers on the floor.

“I love your cock, did you know that?” John suddenly inquired, catching Sherlock off guard as he imagined all of those times when John had his lips wrapped around Sherlock’s cock. “Long, pink–same colour of your lips. Much like your nipples. I love those too, do you know why?”

“Tell me,” Sherlock almost plead.

“They’re so sensitive. Just take the pads of your thumbs and brush over them.”

Sherlock followed his order, letting his fingers brush down his hardened nipples, eliciting a sharp gasp from him as his cock leaked even more precum than before.

“J-John, I’m going to make a mess on your chair,” Sherlock moaned in warning..

John’s voice was low, heady. “That’s the point.”

Sherlock whimpered in response. “What now?”

“Put your finger in your mouth,” Sherlock arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything; he followed his order, placing his index finger onto his tongue. “Suck,” John whispered and Sherlock acquiesced. “Now, take that finger and brush it around your nipple.”

Sherlock moaned lowly at the new sensation as it was as close to a tongue as he was going to get it. They hardened further under his ministrations.

“Good, Sherlock,” John murmured. “ _ Softly,  _ twist them between your thumb and index finger.”

Sherlock was breathless. “Like the way you do it?”

“Exactly the way I do it.” 

Sherlock softly twisted his nipples, and a keening moan fell from his lips as his cock twitched, begging to be touched.

“Are you ready?” John murmured and Sherlock didn’t have to ask what for.

_ "Yes, _ ” he gasped.

“There should be lube stashed on the left side.” John said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Sherlock reached down and, sure enough, it was there. “Planning something?”

“Always, with you. I have a list of places I’d like to fuck you all throughout the flat.”

“ _ Oh,”  _ Sherlock gasped. “Where?”

“Your chair, my chair, the kitchen table, in front of the fireplace. There are others, but I want to make you come first.”

“You’ve really considered this,” Sherlock said in awe, opening the bottle to pour  lube into his hand.

“Mmm,” John hummed. “That was lube I heard, right?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered.

“Okay, take your cock into your hand,” John begins slowly.

“John?” 

“Yeah?”

“I want you to come with me.”

John inhaled sharply. “ _ Fuck,  _ Sherlock. Okay. Yeah. Are you touching yourself?”

Sherlock quickly took his cock in his hand, shuddering at the sensation that pooled in his lower belly and rolled up his spine. “Yes,”

_ "Stroke _ ,” John breathed who was obviously touching himself now.

Sherlock groaned, imagining the army doctor hard and leaking, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking to thoughts of  _ him.  _ Sherlock tilted his hands to thrust up.

“Do not move your hips.” John ordered, causing Sherlock to stop. “Only when I tell you to, okay?”

“Yes,” Sherlock nodded. “Okay.”

“Cup your bollocks, give them a light pull.”

With the hand that wasn’t stroking his cock, Sherlock used his free hand, cupping his bollocks, shuddering at the feeling. When lightly pulled, a heavy sensation coursed through Sherlock’s veins, causing him to throw his head back, releasing a particularly loud moan. “Oh,  _ John, _ ”

“I know,” John reassured him. “They’re heavier because you’re closer to orgasm. It’s alright.”

With a short gasp, Sherlock nodded.

“I know you’re close, so do me one last favour, Sherlock,”

“Okay,” Sherlock whispered.  _ Anything. _

“I want you to start moving your hips and, when you feel like you’re on the brink, give your bollocks a light pull again. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sherlock gasped as his hips tilted and began swiftly rising into his fist. The sensation was too much,  _ way  _ too much. “John I-I’m not going to last.”

“You’re not supposed to, love,” John sounded breathless himself and when Sherlock listened, he could hear moans falling from John’s lips. “Just... _ feel. _ ”

Together, they reached the brink, chasing their orgasms.

“ _ Ah,  _ Sherlock, I-I’m close,” John moaned. “Do it.”

Sherlock reached down, cupping his bollocks once again. They felt heavy and they looked as dark as his cock. “ _ John, _ ” he gasped.

“It’s alright, love. I’m here. Do it.”

Sherlock gave a light pull, stroking his perineum in the process and, within a short second, Sherlock’s body was shaking with an orgasm, his hips stuttering as he spilled over his fist, his thighs, John’s chair and the floor. He couldn’t stop  _ coming. _

He was aware of John coming too with a broken gasp, “ _ Sherlock _ ,” as he whimpered, his orgasm hitting much harder than he expected.

Sherlock continued thrusting through the tremors until his entire body was over sensitised. He released his cock, then collapsed against the back of John’s chair in exhaustion. John was panting on the other end, expletives following behind from time to time.

_ "Oh _ ,  _ fuck _ ,” John gasped. “I need to come home.”

“Yes, you do,” Sherlock wanted to smirk, but he was too exhausted.

_ "Shit _ ,” John groaned. “That was…”

“Yes, I know,” Sherlock murmured. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, love.” John sighed. “I wish I was there to hold you.”

“So do I,” Sherlock began to pout. “You’ll be back home in a few days.”

“Yes, and then you won’t be able to get rid of me.” John’s voice was slowing from exhaustion and Sherlock knew it wouldn’t take very long for him to fall asleep.

“I would never want to.” Sherlock whispered.

“I love you,” John breathed.

“I love you, too.” Sherlock laid his head down on John’s armchair next to his phone. Like this, he could imagine John was actually here. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, let me know what you liked about it, or if you had a favourite line/part, let me know in a comment because feedback is important me.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: @consulting-writer@tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


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